


Song of the Sea

by Rhymefire



Series: A Sailor's Life For Me [3]
Category: Sunless Sea
Genre: Adventure, Epistolary, travel guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhymefire/pseuds/Rhymefire
Summary: Dear reader, the volume you have acquired is the original, handwritten copy of Song of the Sea by the Lucky Surfacer (born Edward). This book is the result of a life devoted to collecting knowledge, the only currency worth anything in a world full of secrets. It contains detailed knowledge on ports, monsters, artifacts and much more. Anyone interested in the sea or the study of the mystical and hidden would do themselves a favour by picking up this book.





	1. Introduction and Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> The collection of knowledge is a long road. More stories will be available as Edward continues his adventures. Although the number of chapters is set, the word count will increase as the chapters are written. Check back now and then, this will take a while.
> 
> Most recently added to: Chapter 6 (Lamentable Relics) and Chapter 2 (Ports) on October 12

I am Edward, a natural philosopher from the surface. My theories on time, blood and starlight brought me to the Neath in search of answers. Now I go out to sea. I intend to explore as much of the Neath as possible and record its mysteries. To account for clarity, I have avoided the use of the sailor's 'z.'

 

[A sheaf of paper ripped from a journal is pinned to the first page of the book.]

July 16, 1889

I have joined the crew of the esteemed Distant Captain. A woman named Hettie approached me on the docks and accompanied me to a fine dining establishment nearby. She convinced the Captain to let me join their crew, but I had to adopt a use-name to do it. I was named Lucky Surfacer by Hettie.

I was captain of a ship for about a month. I visited eleven ports in that time. I miscalculated. I treated my ship as a surface vessel and we ran out of supplies and fuel. I set off in a lifeboat. I floated back to London. I lost my ship and all my notes. I have tried to recreate them from memory, but I cannot date them. I was too arrogant. The sea is so much more dangerous than Fallen London. I have been assured by Hettie that Erik is the best captain in all the Undersea, but she is married to them.

The Captain will allow me to continue my research as long as I don’t let it interfere with my duties aboard the ship. There is another Surfacer here – called the Determined Doctor – but we are very different. He makes me uneasy. Perhaps I am too easily unnerved down here. I think I have managed quite well so far.

I wonder now why I tried to set off on my own at first. It would have been much wiser to join a ship in the beginning.

 

Table of Contents:

Chapter One........................A Detailed Guide To The Creatures Of The Undersea

Chapter Two........................A Detailed Guide To Ports Of The Undersea

Chapter Three......................On The Collection And Identification Of Various Artifacts

Chapter Four........................A Humble Explanation Of Gods And Ancient Powers

Chapter Five.........................A Treatise On Mutations In The Neath

Chapter Six..........................On Those That Came Before Us

Chapter Seven......................Stories That Sailors Tell

Chapter Eight.......................Stories Of Distant Shores

Chapter Nine........................Stories To Curdle The Blood

Chapter Ten..........................On Hidden Knowledge


	2. A Detailed Guide To Creatures Of The Undersea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most recently added (Sep. 19): Sea serpents

Collected here is what I have learned about various creatures I have encountered during my travels. Underwater creatures are this chapter's focus, but I have also included information about land or air dwelling creatures.

 

Frost-Moths

These fragile moths emerge fully grown from the bodies of experienced tomb-colonists. The experience of the tomb-colonist directly relates to the size of the moth. The most experienced can produce moths as large as sea-bats while the dullest can only produce a flurry of tiny moths. The emergence of a frost-moth is an intimate, private affair that even the most curious should not try to witness. I pray that my knowledge may sate my reader's appetite for information. When a frost-moth emerges, the tomb-colonist dissolves into a fine dust and leaves only bandages behind. The frost-moths extricate themselves from this pile and are capable of flight immediately. They melt into water upon death.

Tomb-colonies are a good place to watch frost-moths as they do not travel far from the place of their emergence. They eat candle flame and wax. Oddly enough, tomb-colonists do not like them. I suppose some are unnerved by a fluttering reminder of their coming death.

The memories of the tomb-colonist are written on the wings of frost-moths in a language I have been unable to decipher. Although rare, the writing may be patterned in bold colours. The writing is intricate and consists of delicate loops and spirals that mimic a frost-moth's flight pattern. Like most moths, the wings are covered in furred scales. Unlike most moths, they smell of wax and frost. The wings shine like ice and are how these exquisite creatures got their names.

 

Auroral Megalops

These are the adolescent forms of larger varieties of Neath-crab. Their shell is a rich, buttery gold. It glows golden, but dims upon death. They wail when in pain, an odd sound like steam escaping a kettle. Upon death, their muscles convulse and they turn onto their back with the legs clenched tightly to the body. The glow of the blue blood does not dim after death. The glowing meat crisps and withers when exposed to air. After several minutes, the meat is dry and blackened. The meat is only edible when glowing.

Acids are useful for weakening the joints. Once weakened, they can be sliced open with a sharp knife. Those without acid may shatter the joints by applying the butt of a heavy cleaver. The red eyes are large and beautiful in the adolescent specimens. As the crab matures, they grow tendrils to use as lures and navigational aides. One can estimate how close to maturity an auroral megalops is by searching for young tendrils or by examining the eyes. The eyes of a crab close to maturity lose their shine and become vestigial. This is likely because the mature crabs spend much of their time beneath the waves, so do not rely on their eyesight as much as the younger crabs that live in the shallows.

While dissecting an auroral megalops, golden sparks may leap from the flesh, but these are harmless.

 

Sea-bats

These small flying mammals are native to the Neath. Sailors hold them in high regard. I was unable to enlist my crew until I had purchased one from a dingy street vendor. They are different from the brown bats found on the mainland. Sea-bats are much hardier and are capable of flying longer distances. They are omnivorous and can eat a wide variety of things. While any sea-bat keeper can attest that their favourite food is blood, they can safely consume crackers, fruit, insects and fungus. They prefer to roost in crevices and ledges, like all bats. Their furred skin is leathery and their bones are small and fragile.

Sea-bats are intelligent creatures and are capable of retrieving things once set loose. Because of this, they make excellent scouts. Sailors commonly set a sea-bat loose as a scout. If it returns with an item clutched its claws, land is nearby. They can be trained to perform tricks. They have an excellent sense of direction and can always find their way back home.

They make many sounds, including chirps and chitters. Like all bats, they use echolocation to navigate. Prior to common belief, sea-bats are not blind and have good eyesight.

Albino sea-bats are said to be Salt’s messengers.

 

Blemmigan

These tiny living mushrooms are extremely intelligent. Their cap can be moved at will to aid in communication and expression of emotion. The tendrils that dangle from the cap are prehensile. I have seen Blemmigans use them to write, drink and play dice. They can make many sounds including chittering and fluting. They vibrate when happy.

They make their homes in marshes and bogs. Their colouration ranges from a delicate violet to a bruised blackberry. Blemmigans grow out of the tops of a specific variety of fungus-mound found only in salty bogs. Blemmigans form rudimentary societies around these mounds and create little clay tablets of poems to store there. These fungi are fond of poetry and colonies recite poems as a way of greeting each other.

Blemmigans are omnivorous, but their fanged beaks indicate a preference for meat. They whistle as wolves howl.

 

Sorrow Spiders

You shouldn’t hold them by either end as one contains fangs and the other spinnerets. They bite out the eyes of sleeping mammals and hide them in their webs by wrapping them in silk. A sorrow spider egg is implanted in the eyeball. After for one month the egg hatches and the miniscule spider will feed on the vitreous. The sorrow spider emerges fully grown from the engorged eyeball.

Despite common belief, and their ability to travel through mirrors, sorrow spiders are not native to Parabola. I have reason to believe that they originate from the High Wilderness.

Although dangerous, some entrepreneurs have managed to semi-domesticate sorrow spiders for entertainment and profit.They are commonly trained for use in spider fighting pits and their webs can be harvested for silk. Although surface-silk is prized down here, I believe that sorrow spider silk is much lighter and softer. 

Anyone who wants to own a pet sorrow spider should buy a domesticated specimen instead of trying to capture their own. Sorrow spiders travel in groups and are fully capable of ripping a person to bloody shreds. Sorrow spiders make for intelligent, if startling, pets and must be entertained. A bored sorrow spider is prone to destructive habits and will leave fang marks on your upholstery. Try offering your beloved arachnid some glim shards or polished rocks. Sorrow spiders love using them in their webs and you can hang the decorations around your home to brighten up the corners. Glim-studded webs make attractive conversation pieces and can even be sold for a minor profit. If you intend to do this, be sure not to sell all your pet’s creations or it will grow sulky. A sulky spider is prone to biting.

A domesticated sorrow spider will consume raw meat and insects with pleasure. Try feeding your sorrow spider live bloodworms to see it hunt. Rat eyes can be used as a treat or reward for good behaviour, but they will make your spider more cunning. Only experienced spider owners should feed their pets eyeballs. If you find eyeballs in the webs your spider makes, you should kill the spider, squash the eggs and burn the webbing unless you want to take up breeding as your new hobby.

Sorrow spiders are strictly carnivorous. They make hissing noises when upset. They are not afraid of light. Their venom glands are located at the tips of their legs, and not their fangs. I theorize this is to prevent contaminating harvested eyes. If hungry enough, sorrow spiders will resort to cannibalism.

A spider council is created when an egg is implanted in the eye of someone exposed to the language of the stars, commonly known as Correspondence. These eyeballs make an excellent home and cause the growing spider inside to split in two over and over. The process is similar to the one which creates twins and triplets. When the engorged eyeball splits open, the spider council emerges. The bodies of the individual spiders have melted together like candle wax. Due to Neath Mysteries, an eyeball containing a growing spider council will stretch to enormous size until the spider council is fully grown and ready to emerge. The most interesting thing about spider councils is their heightened intelligence and the fact that it contains one mind despite being formed of many bodies. Spider councils are enormous creatures and have difficulty moving about because of their size and chaotic limb arrangement. Spider councils are capable of speech.

Sorrow spiders make nests around spider councils and bring them food. In return, the spider council helps direct their movements and identifies which eyeballs are fit for the implantation of an egg and which are fit for food. This is a beneficial arrangement as the sorrow spiders create stronger young and the spider council gets a steady supply of food.

It is possible to safely eat a sorrow spider if the venom glands are removed. It is also possible to safely eat clay.

 

Sea serpents

We have stories of such creatures on the surface, but nothing like them. These carnivorous sea serpents come to shallower waters near rocky coastlines to lay their eggs. The mother lurks in the waters near her clutch of eggs to guard them. She also hunts for her favoured prey – human – using the peculiar lure on the end of her tail. The lure resembles a woman in a green dress and the illusion is aided by special sigh-bladders near the tail that make a sound that resembles a woman’s voice. The illusion holds well. By the time a human has gotten close enough to see that they have been tricked, they are within striking range.

Sea serpent eggs are coated with a sticky substance that glues them to the rocks. Special equipment is needed to harvest them. I am unsure why anyone would want to do this, but I am told they sell for a pretty penny. If any of my more adventurous readers intend to harvest sea serpent eggs, I recommend either killing, incapacitating or distracting the mother first. They are very protective of their eggs.

Once the eggs hatch, sea serpents lose all interest in their young.


	3. A Detailed Guide To Ports Of The Undersea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most recently added (Oct. 12): Sheperd Isles

I have gathered information on the places a captain may dock a ship. I encourage sailors to explore at their own leisure.

 

Venderbight

Venderbight is tied to the coast just above London. It is populated by the tomb-colonists. These dusty people have been worn down and battered by the dangers of the Neath. Though decaying and wrapped in bandages, many of them do not give up their ties to home. Dust from fraying bandages collects on any surface and tints the water sepia. Many of the colonists stay still to conserve energy and blend right into the walls. They are only revealed when they sneeze because of all the dust. Travellers should be prepared to be called ‘silk-skin.’ It is a nickname sometimes used affectionately and sometimes dismissively.

If you have any desire to stay here for a length of time, be sure to visit the Skin-Check Post and stop by the Confirmation of Consolation. The First Curator created these two buildings to ensure that the residents of Venderbight are tomb-colonists with proper access to counseling. The transition from living to tomb-colonist can be difficult and he cares for his people.

I was not able to find the sanatorium. Perhaps it is underground. Perhaps it is hidden at the end of a crooked street. It is definitely guarded by frost-moths.

For Tourists:

Any tourists should stop by the Vengeance of Jonah. This restaurant specializes in seafood and is a rare example of tomb-colony haute cuisine. The restaurant is well-lighted (unlike many places in Venderbight) so patrons can properly admire their food. If you’re feeling adventurous, you should sample their daily special. It always tastes exquisite, but the owner occasionally buys spices from places behind mirrors. Prepare for odd dreams the next time you sleep. For the extremely adventurous amongst my gentle readers, I suggest bringing any strange catches you have straight to the cooks. They love experimenting with new meats, and you will always be pleasantly surprised. This is recommended for any readers who lack sufficient echoes to pay for the expensive meals here. The Vengeance of Jonah will pay you a nominal fee for the pleasure and let you keep whatever you can’t eat.

The Hungarian Café is a lively place for those short on echoes. The food may be dusty and a little stale, but worth ordering for the pleasure of sipping a steaming cup of coffee while listening to the sprightly violinists that play here. They specialize in all manner of songs, and patrons are encouraged to sing along.

The Lamplighter’s Arcade sells copper jewelry of exquisite and ancient design. It’s an excellent place to pick up a present or souvenir. I myself purchased a cheery-looking brooch with the expression of a tipsy bat.

I met the first curator. He is the oldest of the tomb-colonists and oversees all the colonies in the local waters. He is a small figure – no larger than a child – and cannot move without great effort. He is terrified of moths and the light that brings them. The first curator is so weak that speaking drains him of energy. Out of kindness, I spoke to the Obsequious Steward that oversaw him.

For Traders:

The price of fuel here is double what it is in London, and the supply crates must be swept clean of dust before brought back onto the ship. They purchase mushroom wine for a decent price and are the best place to sell foxfire candles. It has been rumoured that one may sell red honey here as well. Mourning candles are made here, but trade opportunities for those are limited for sea-captains.

The Hollow Temple here is not used for worship, but is instead a place where the tomb-colonists gather to exchange news and stories. Avoid any shadowed corners with curious glyphs. They are intriguing and discrete study with a spyglass reveals they are like the graffiti that is sometimes found in London. Be wary, as frost-moths guard places in the tomb-colonies where the living are not welcome.

Any tomb-colonist passengers can be dropped off at the Charnel Lounge for a slight payment.

 

Demeaux Island

The Iron and Misery company owns a funging station here. The workers spend their days harvesting the various fungi for building, medicinal and culinary purposes. An interesting note: back home we call them boletus, but when I mentioned this to the factor he shook his head. “Bolegus,” he said. A minor semantic difference, I suppose. I theorize that it started as a way to distinguish surface fungi from Neath fungi.

Spores cloud the air. Wear a mask to protect your nose and mouth. They’ll get into your mouth anyways, but it may help you feel better. I recommend a bath in hot water once you get back to your ship. Be wary of how much fungus you eat during your stay. Eat enough of it and it will turn you into a giant mushroom. I was reassured by the factor that you would have to eat "an awful lot for that to happen," but he failed to say how much 'an awful lot' is.

For tourists:

The bolegus that grows here is unique in its size and ability to grow nearly anywhere. The people here have sproutlings growing in their flesh. I recommend against staying for more than a day to prevent the sproutlings from infesting you, your ship and your belongings. It grows at a rate of two feet a day. After a rain, the growth rate surges.

Many interesting things can be found in the thick fungul jungles that surround the funging station. Colonies of blemmigans dot the salty marsh. Many-limbed predators slide through the bolegus. Rat corsairs and Iron Republic privateers make camps hidden behind mushroom fronds.

The Khanite shows interest in Demeaux island. This may be an extension of their interest in London and its Masters.

For traders:

Food and construction materials can be gathered here by those who are skilled at telling one mushroom from another. Some are delicious, but some are poisonous. Several varieties spray hallucinogenic vapour to deter predators. Some are sentient and mischievous. Individual mutations, common in the Neath, make it difficult to tell one from the other.

Harbour provisioners here sell crates of bolegus-frond ready for consumption, construction materials and fuel of indifferent quality. They make no purchases.

The factor will trade strange catches for misdelivered long-boxes, though. The people here eat fungus for every meal, and aren’t put off by any sort of mutations on the meat.

 

Cumaean Canal

This canal connects the surface and the Neath. Surface men are tanned. Upon first glance, many of my fellows mistook me for a Neath-born man. Lack of sunlight has made my skin paler than it has ever been. There is rarely trouble here, as the surface nations and London work together to keep the Cumaean Canal a safe place.

For tourists:

There are no pubs here, but there are half-legal hostels in docked ships. Surface spies tend to frequent the Cumaean Canal as it is a good base for their short trips into the Neath.

For traders:

Even though many ships stop by here – including surface ships – the goods are of indifferent quality.

Adventurous traders can sail up the canal to fill mirrorcatch boxes with sunlight. Avernus is the lake atop the canal. I recommend bringing lots of fuel and supplies. Neath-goers should be wary of the sun’s light. The Neath works its way into your bones and the light is dangerous for Neath-dwellers because of this. In the sunlight parabola-linen turns to dust and prisoner’s honey loses its magic. I have spent too long in the Neath to ever go back to the surface. We all pay a price for the acquisition of knowledge.

 

Avernus

I have spent too long in the Neath to ever return home to Vienna, but I can tell you what I remember of the sun-kissed lake at the top of the Cumaean Canal. Wind ripples the glassy waters of the lake. There is not as much wind in the Neath. Hardly any. The fish in Avernus are nothing like the violent Neath-fish. They are gentle. Their flesh is soft and sweet in comparison. Now and then I miss birdsong, the poplar trees and the sky. Oh, the sky. [This page is tear stained and the ink is smudged in some places.]

 

Naples

I passed through here on my way to the Neath. Food grows freely here. You wouldn’t believe how it tasted if I told you. I cannot bear to write of it. The warm bread. The creamy cheese. The tomatoes blushing with ripeness. I remember the rich wines from my homeland. We make them from grapes, not mushrooms. I had never heard of mushroom wine before coming into the dark of the Neath. Ice-wine! Oh, how I miss ice-wine. [This page is tear-stained. It has been crumpled up and smoothed out several times.]

 

Vienna

I remember the glory of the Dual Monarchy. I grew up here, in Vienna’s beautiful sunlit streets. We call the Neath the netherworld. I grew up hearing tales of the horrors below. Of devils. Darkness. You have so few tales of the light. I will share mine.

[The next few pages have been carefully removed with a penknife.]

 

Iron Republic

This is Hell’s city-state, even though there is no government here. The church I went to on the surface would never take me back if I returned. The laws of reality break down near the Iron Republic. The sea sizzles and vapour rises.

The citizens here have been changed by Hells presence. Many of them have the heads of dogs or serpents. The streets move about and refuse to lie straight. It smells of coal and brimstone. I recommend that sailors write their port reports when they are safely away from Hell’s reality-altering influence. It is difficult to write when the ink freezes and your letters snigger and bite.

For Tourists:

This is a good place to get rid of any nightmares or terror you may be experiencing. If you’re scared enough, the fears will jump out of you. I got to witness this myself while loitering about the docks.

Keep your senses open. The Iron Republic is a place where emotions can become tangible and memories can be heard in the wind. I once encountered an emotion that could only be expressed mathematically and spent an hour trying to write the equation. Keep your senses open, but be prepared to close them.

I recommend that tourists visit the market of hungers purely for the experience. The market shifts daily. Its construction and vendor stalls change as the hours run by. Try not to be there when the change actually occurs, as it’s quite chaotic and easy to get trampled by the sudden rush.

For Traders:

The market of hungers always sells fuel. This is the best place to buy fuel because of how cheap it is. Different vendors are available each day. Much of the trade takes place in the open air plaza known as The House. The House changes moods and decorations daily. With each shift in mood, a different group of vendors settles in.

The House of Pleasures is manned by a parliament of flies. They purchase romantic literature. It is the best place to sell scintillack. You can buy Judgement’s Eggs, bales of parabola linen and wicked surmises from them. Expect the flies to land on you while you browse. They are eager for trade and prone to caressing you with their wings. Don’t slap at them, it offends them horribly. When The House of Pleasures is open the market itself contains various spires and sigils. It almost resembles the Bazaar.

The House of Milks is manned by the local dragons. They idly squeeze hard darkdrop coffee beans and a milky substance from their swollen teats. I’m not sure how the darkdrop coffee beans are produced in the dragon bodies, but I refuse to ask. Even I won’t argue with a lactating dragon, especially one painfully extracting coffee from its nipples. I recommend not telling prospective buyers where the coffee came from. I am positive that not all darkdrop coffee comes from dragon teats. The dragons whistle at prospective buyers. Crucified dragon-corpses dot the corners, rotting sweetly in shadowed corners. Laws-in-Waiting poke moodily at them.

The House of Harvests is a peculiar aspect of the market. It is manned by starving men who insist on feeding the patrons milling about the plaza. Even if you’re not planning on purchasing something, I recommend visiting for the food alone. It feels strange eating food given to you by a starving man, but they become upset if you don’t eat what is given. “Hell provides,” they whisper as they thrust skewered meats at you. “Eat, only let us drink.” I am not sure what they are drinking. Knowing the location, it can be anything from your hunger to the act of trade itself. One can buy food very cheaply here. I have never seen better prices for crates of food! The prices for mushroom wine are decent if you are purchasing in small quantities and prisoner’s honey can be bought here for a good price. They sell coffins as well, but will only take the most captivating treasures for them. Mischievous, to put it lightly.

The House of Harms is manned by hunters with wicked knives. An enterprising trader can buy stygian ivory and devilbone dice for human skulls. A gruesome, if intriguing, trade. On days such as this, you can only buy fuel for skulls. One shudders to think of what they are doing with them. They buy crates of souls for skulls as well. The trade of souls is a Neath-habit I fear I will never become accustomed to.

 

Port Carnelian

The sapphire mines are located here. There is no carnelian to be found. The fungal jungle is delicate and bedecked with sheets of lacy violet and white. Tigers pad across the streets. Respect the big cats that live here. They are just as intelligent as you are and they walk through dreams.

The Banded Prince, ruler of the cats, lives deep in the jungle. There is a travel ban on the tigers here, which is a shame. There is trouble here. The tigers are looked down on by the local humans. There are two vortexes just outside Port Carnelian. Steer carefully.

For tourists:

The sapphire-mines are located to your right as you exit the docks. I wouldn’t recommend going inside. Surface mines are dangerous places and I shudder to think how dangerous a Neath mine could be. I do recommend watching the miners cart the sapphires out. How cheerily they glimmer in the Neath-light!

To your left is the Governor’s mansion. I can only assume that he likes to oversee the docks and mines. He works at Heartscross House, where any visitor will be hard pressed to actually speak with him. The local tigers keep him very busy. I was offered a bowl of sugared puffballs on my visit. The act of candying mushrooms is a quaint habit of the Neath, but they really are so delicious. We have recipes for sweetened mushrooms on the surface, but we usually candy fruits instead of mushrooms.

Murgatroyd’s Imperial Tea Shop serves exquisite tea. The local tea has a lovely blue, smoky taste to it. I regularly buy packets of tea from Port Carnelian. It’s the best tea I’ve ever had and well worth the price. The atmosphere is exquisite! I saw tigers lounging on sedans, idly lapping tea from bowls and speaking about poetry. I could never see such wonders on the surface.

The Blue Bazaar is an excellent place for sightseeing and souvenirs. It is a large open-aired market with eloquent tiger vendors that display their wares on patterned carpets.

For traders:

It is a good place to buy fuel and supplies. One can purchase and sell solacefruit here. It’s a good place to sell mushroom wine and romantic literature. The Sapphire Exchange is one of the best places to buy darkdrop coffee beans and is the only place to legally obtain sapphires. It is a bit slippery, as it is constructed entirely out of polished sapphires. They wink in the gas-light. “Does London have enough sapphires to use them as building materials?” they seem to ask. “Because we do.”

A brave explorer may pan for sapphires in the rivers if they are willing to risk encountering a tiger. The tigers eat people who try panning for sapphires. There are stories of riverbeds so inundated with sapphires that they glimmer blue. They are true, but such rivers are hard to find.

 

Hunter's Keep

Hunter’s Keep is the name of a lovely house a few hours from London. Three sisters (Cynthia, Lucy and Pheobe) live there and delight in having lunch with visitors. There is something hidden here, but I cannot put my finger on it. I can only trust that as I grow more familiar here, the sisters will divulge their secrets.

My sailors insist that the three sisters are touched by the sea-gods. According to them, Phoebe is blessed by Storm, Cynthia by Salt and Lucy by Stone. I hesitate to indulge the superstitions of my crew (Although many are true, some are not), but I cannot prove them otherwise. In any case, it would be rude to mistreat the sisters because of any potential connections to sea-gods.

For tourists: I suppose if good meal and fine conversation is not enough to tempt you, you may wish to come to see their maid. She is a peculiar creature with smouldering topaz eyes. She does not speak and is quite aggressive, so stay out of arm’s reach.

For traders: There are no trading opportunities here. I suppose you could always sell whatever food the sisters give you, but that would be heartless. You monster.

 

Whither

This port town is quiet, chilly and gray. The people here hold questions in high regard, although they never answer them. They speak entirely in questions. It is difficult to tell how they feel about visitors, or about anything.

For tourists:

An observant reader will find many ancient mysteries hidden away in this town in the desolate wastes. On my first exploratory trip, I wandered the streets in a daze and chanced to look up. I found the words ‘Is there a sea more sunless?’ carved into the salt-rock ceiling. It chilled my blood. I cannot imagine a sea more sunless, nor why anyone would want to go to such a place. The Neath is already far enough from the Judgements. Too far from their ordering light, and reality may break down completely.

The pale beer made here is quite thirst-quenching. I recommend that the hungry try some of the cooked dust-burrowing creatures of the Waste. Although hunting about for some, I was unable to find the creatures myself and must praise the hunters of Whither for their ingenuity in finding the burrowing creatures. While exploring the city, keep an eye out for food vendors and riddle contests.

Be wary if you plan on exploring near the coast. Sea-serpents lay their eggs on the rocks and hunt for prey near the coast.

My crew tells me that the House of the Question here is the only place to reliably gain the attention of the sea-gods or to lift their curses. Rich offerings must be given.

For traders:

The traders of Whither deal in stories. Fortune and Fortune can be found on the docks. The shopkeeper sells white coke and mutersalt mined from the salt-plains for sea-stories. If you are searching for supplies or trying to sell ivory you should visit the Hunter’s Cage. Don’t bring any light source with you, as the grizzled trappers shy away from it. I brought in a lamp I carved out of wood and they shot it with a crossbow. Don’t make my mistake. They deal solely in tales of terror. The act of treating stories and information as a currency in the Neath is one that puzzles me, but when in Rome….

 

Codex

This rocky island is nearly entirely devoid of plant life. Everywhere one looks, sigils are carved into the rocks. At the highest peak a bonfire can be seen. This bonfire is constantly tended to by the monkeys. I am unsure how they reach it as the cliff face is far too icy to climb without proper equipment. I have not seen suitable equipment here. I suspect an underground passage of some sort is used to reach the bonfire.

For tourists:

There are many places to go if you are in search of fine conversation. This is not one of them. The island is populated by mute exiles and a colony of bad-tempered monkeys. They scrape a living from the sea. The exiles have a type of sign language unique to them. I have suggested to several of my colleagues at the University that it may be interesting to study, but have been met with a peculiar resistance.

The mute exiles will not prevent you from entering the cave systems, but they are dreadfully cold and go in circles. I am unsure one could successfully navigate them unless they became a permanent inhabitant of this place.

There are desperate monster hunters here. They want an answer, but I cannot bear to give them one.

For traders:

There is only one trader here. He communicates with potential customers by using prewritten phrases carved into stone tablets. This makes trade difficult, but it is the only place to go if you are in search of food or fuel.

One may also trade skulls to the monkeys for unread logs. I am unsure of where these logs come from. I have a horrid feeling that the skulls feed the bonfire. There is no other fuel in this place. I would think such a thing ludicrous if not for the other things I have seen in the Neath.

 

Sheperd Isles - Written on July 20, 1889

Contrary to the name, there are no shepherds here and sheep are illegal. The island was named after the genterman that founded this collection of islands. These islands stay together, no matter what Alterations come. Abbey Rock is always close by. These islands are populated by storytellers. Several of the stories in later chapters originate from the esteemed storytellers of the Sheperd isles.

For tourists:

A picnic at the Standing Stones is a lovely way to spend an afternoon. For only 5 Echoes, a villager will row you over. The Standing Stones are raised in a rough circle. Sea-bats roost in their cracks. Several are more vampirically inclined. I should note that the Sea-Eyed Boy (the son of the Distant Captain and Hettie, two kind souls that allowed me to join their crew after I lost my own ship to my own foolishness) taught me how to throw rocks with near-perfect aim. The Standing Stones crumble in places and shed ambiguous eoliths. These stones are either made from living things or the sea. They may hint at a greater truth to one of the stories told of the Standing Stones origination. I theorize that the Standing Stones originate from Irem and are sentient. Sentient stones. The Neath continues to astound and perplex me.

The Three Graves are accessible by bridge, but they are damp and the area is shrouded in continual mist. I am told ‘the mist is an important part of it.’ The stories the locals tell about the landmark is much more interesting than the landmark itself. Despite the stories, I have never seen any sign of drownies or freshly-turned earth.

Thornwell Croft is the island to the north. Any expeditions there must be done without help from the locals as they shun the place. With so many conflicting stories, I hesitate to record any. I can only theorize that the shimmering patches of air known as Wandering Mirages tend to appear there. Perhaps these are the originations of stories of other versions of us living in Thornwell Croft? Remnants of a bridge can be found, but I am unable to say how it was destroyed. I am unable to offer concrete data as my captain would not allow me to visit. “Not even your luck will hold out there, Surfacer,” they said.

For traders:

Strategic information or revelatory charts can be obtained by giving the Snivelling Caitiff a very large bribe of supplies of Mushroom wine. He was very insistent that I put this in.

A Retired Monster-Hunter also insisted I add this: that Soothe & Cooper Long-Boxes are available in return for hunting trophies. Upon payment, he will lead you to the graveyard where a London family keeps them. I must insist that you pay the man and not attempt to find the graveyard by yourself as the path is very steep and you will require his assistance no matter how clever you may be. By my own volition, I contacted the London family that keeps this graveyard ‘stocked.’ They were awfully embarrassed at first, but made it clear that they did not care what happened to the bodies. I suspect they are a family of assassins that have found an efficient way of disposing of corpses. They did not object to me putting this in (I’m not sure how they knew about my suspicions) and, in fact, encouraged it. “Stories are useful in our business,” they said. “And who would believe you?” Fair enough, supposed family of assassins. Fair enough.

The usual Harbour provisioners can be found here.


	4. On The Collection And Identification Of Various Artifacts

This chapter serves a guide to help my gentle readers identify artifacts of value. I have included examples of artifacts I have found on my journeys. 

How does one measure the value of an item? The rarity or the story that comes with it? A witty sailor can turn any item into a treasure worthy of sale. Even the most common of items can be sold for a pretty penny if you tell a story that goes with it. A singed handkerchief is worthless. A handkerchief singed with the tears of a crying devilless when you offered her comfort? Now that is a treasure.


	5. A Humble Explanation Of Gods And Ancient Powers

It is imperative to avoid offending the powerful citizens of the Neath. This is all I know of them and their habits and fancies.


	6. A Treatise On Mutations In The Neath

The Neath's creatures are prone to mutations because they are hidden away from what I suspect to be the light of the Judgements. I theorize that the stars lay down the laws of reality and the Neath is so strange because it is hidden from their light. Whether that is true or not, this chapter documents the mutations I have observed.


	7. On Those That Came Before Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most recently added (Oct. 12): on July 18, 1889

While death is uncommon in the Neath, it still happens. This chapter commemorates the deaths of my crew mates. May they find peace in the afterlife. I will always be grateful to those that aided my journeys. Without them, this book would not have been written.

 

July 18, 1889

Found a skull inside a bound shark. The cook and the Sea-Eyed Boy says that it wasn’t in the beasts stomach, but how else could it have gotten there?  Do human skulls grow in sea-beasts like seeds in gourds? I hope not. It is impossible to give this poor wretch a decent burial, but recording his (or her) memory is the best I can do.


	8. Stories That Sailors Tell

Sailors have their own stories different from those told on the mainland. They are unlike anything I have encountered on the surface, so I have attempted to write them down.


	9. Stories Of Distant Shores

There are places where I cannot sail yet. These are stories of those places. In each one there is perhaps a grain of truth.

 

Phoebe’s Story: The Pearl-Eyed Man

Once upon a time, a man and a maiden linked hands under the false-stars and swore to love no other. The maiden lived alone on a rocky island to the south and the two lovers often held hands and walked across the shoreline. The man could only spend a few hours each day with his beloved, for her skin shone with an inner light that made his eyes water and blistered the skin. Such was his love for the woman that he didn’t care.

Every tenday, a crone came to the island and looked at the two lovers. The crone tutted at the maiden and shook a long finger. “It is time to leave this place,” she said. The man scowled and the maiden shook her head.

The maiden would pale and turn faint after the crone’s visits, but she refused to tell her lover why. After one particularly taxing visit, the man knelt at her side. “Why does she torment you?” he asked. “Where does she want to take you?” The maiden shook her head and clung to the man, weeping softly.

The man could not bear to see his lover in such pain. The next time the crone came to the island, he snuck up behind her and smashed a rock against her head. The crone fell to the sand with a sigh and dissolved into burning light. The man recoiled, but it was too late. The maiden wept bitterly at the sight. “What have you done?” she cried.

The man tried to explain his actions – that he had only sought to discourage the crone, not kill her – but the maiden dashed into the trees. He spent all day searching, but could not find her. In an act of desperation, he approached his lover’s raven. “Find your mistress,” he said, “and tell her I am sorry.”

The raven bobbed its head and flew into the night. The next day, the raven returned. The man could not help but shiver at the sight of it. Its snow-white feathers had been singed by the surface light. For a good while the raven could only croak horribly at him. Eventually the raven shuddered and cried out. “Curse the sun’s light! Look what it has done to me.” The man tried to comfort the bird, but it pecked his fingers bloody. “Stay away from me. You have killed the moon-lady and forced her daughter to take up her place.”

“I don’t understand.”

The raven slicked back its feathers. “The maiden you loved,” it said, “was the daughter of the moon-lady. Now that her mother is dead my mistress must take her place and guide the moons phases. You have exiled her. Killer.”

“I must see her again.” The man fell to his knees. “I beg you, sweet raven, find a way for me to see my love again.”

The raven agreed and flew away. The next day, the raven returned with two moon-pearls in its talons. Its feathers had been burnt black and every movement released dustings of ash. “If you truly wish to see your lover again,” it said, “you will let me peck out your eyes and put these into the empty sockets.”

Such was the strength of his love that the man agreed immediately. The raven pecked out his eyes and fitted the moon-pearls into his eye sockets. All at once, the man beheld the true radiance of the moon and his beloved. It scorched him from the inside out and he fell into the sand.

The raven pecked at the man’s dead body. Once it was satisfied that the man had died a true death it crowed in triumph. “That is what you get,” it said, “for exiling my mistress to the cold moon. Killer.”

The raven never could return to its mistress. To do so again would burn it to ash. On misty nights, if you hold a moon-pearl up to the Neath-light you can see glimpses of a crying maiden in its depths. On such nights if you are particularly quiet, you can hear the burnt raven weeping for its lost mistress and cursing the man that banished her.


	10. Snippets To Curdle The Blood

These stories demonstrate the dangers of the Neath and Undersea. They are also great fun until the nightmares start.

 

1\. Be wary of the Iron Republic. Do not write there. I made that mistake. My fingertips have scars to prove it.

2\. The tigers of Port Carnelian are eloquent and well-read. They eat man-flesh. Respect the tigers, but don’t put a hand in their mouths.

3\. The moths living inside tomb-colonists burst from their chests. When they do, the body shudders, groans and collapses into a pile of dust and bandages.

4\. The mourning candles sold in tomb-colonies are made from the rendered fat of the bandaged dead.


	11. On Hidden Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most recently added (Sep. 15): secret 5

Occasionally, I encounter snippets of hidden knowledge that change how I view the world. This is a collection of such information. I caution against reading it all at once.

 

1\. The tomb-colonists go to the Sanatorium to die, as there is no other place for them to welcome death.

2\. The tomb-colonies favour candles over gas-lighting because of the frost-moths inside them. Moths have always been attracted to the flames. Frost-moths especially, as their diet consists solely of candle-flame and wax.

3\. A well on Mutton Island lets the people make Rubbery Lumps delicious. They care for the well and the Drowned Man cares for them.

4\. Rubbery Lumps are made from Rubbery Men. I shudder to think how many I've eaten. Never again.

5\. The Correspondence is the language spoken by the stars. This is the theory that had me come to the Neath. My studies down here have all but proved it! Why does no one study this in detail?


End file.
